


Catching Feelings

by Daiako (Achrya)



Series: Alpha April [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dom/sub, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hurt, Injury, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Omega Verse, That's Not How The Force Works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Snape left everything, the Jedi, the Sith, the fighting, behind long ago. He’d hoped to never be called on again, to live out his life with only his mistakes and regrets for company. Foolishness, of course, to even hope that Master Dumbledore would give up his grasp on him so easily but a man can dream.His task is simple on it’s surface: Train and protect Dumbledore’s latest project, but rarely are things so straightforward. Not where Dumbledore is concerned, and not when this task involves Harry Potter, the living embodiment of Snape’s greatest regret, a boy with his mother’s eyes, father’s face, and a spirit dripping in conflict and pain.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Alpha April [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686061
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Catching Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> For Alpha April for which i could have written literally anything and so I went for fucky Star Wars AU, D/S, omegaverse nonsense. I’m in a mood.

The things that made Wild Space so appealing to a man like Severus Snape were often the same things that made it so very annoying to him as well. He was far from the parts of space the Republic truly bothered policing, far from the meddling of the Jedi and the political mechanications that were so very common these days, and he was able to spend his time as he liked, with none of the oppressive oversight of the Jedi or other, less savory, factions. He had never been one to suffer for solitude, no matter how long it stretched on, and he was self-sufficient, and always had been. 

But he did on occasion need items from off world, and deliveries were far and few between. Worse the lack of oversight meant the risk of pirates were always high; more than once he’d had something crucial for his research stolen before he could get his hands on it. He was often disconnected by the Infonet, depending on the state and position of the planet’s lone satellite. There were no luxuries to be had, very few indulgences to engage in that he couldn’t create himself and he often didn’t see another living, sentient creature for months. 

He didn’t leave the planet often, maybe once or twice a standard cycle to seek out things he couldn’t leave to transporters and never for long lengths of time. He couldn’t afford to be seen and recognized, not after everything he’d done. The protection of Grand Master Dumbledore only extended as far as Severus remained willfully exiled and people thought he was dead. He accepted it for what it was, aware that in a just galaxy he’d be dead or at least in the deepest bowels of republic prison or rotting in a work camp for his crimes. 

There had been little kindness or sympathy for the followers of Darth Voldemort’s uprising, and only the ones who convincingly claimed to have been forced or had their minds clouded by the Force. Severus hadn’t been willing to tell such lies in order to save his own miserable skin; at the time he hadn’t even been able to understand why any of his former allies would want to keep living. 

He hadn’t. Once he’d given all he knew to Dumbledore he had fully expected to be taken for trial, or maybe summarily executed on the spot if the man was feeling kind enough to indulge him. Exile, with the understanding that one day Dumbledore might have need of him (a chance for penance, had gone unsaid but understood). The man had set him up with a plot of land on a sparsely populated planet, told the galaxy Severus Snape was dead, and the rest was rightfully buried history. 

He had even begun to think, as the years past with no contact, that it would stay buried. Sometimes that had been a cheerful thought, that he might live out his life as nothing but a minor republic scientist, working on trivial tasks like better food storage, more efficient fuel development, and livestock cloning. Other times it had been enough to make him lash out, destroy everything around him, to want to destroy himself, as a mood so black it could shake the walls overtook him. 

But, for better or worse, it seemed he’d been wrong. 

He waited by the small landing pad near his home for the young force user Dumbledore had sent to him to disembark. The holocall had come in a standard week ago, somehow connecting even though the satellite was due to be in the southern hemisphere that day, and had been brief for how very life changing it was. Dumbledore had a padawan, his first since Severus, who now now on the cusp of knighthood. They needed further training and protection. 

From what he hadn’t gone into, just fixed maddeningly blue eyes on him and stated, serene as could be, that he knew Severus would not fail him in this. Bold, when Severus had so happily failed everyone who had ever had faith in him, but who was he to refuse? 

“He’s angry,” Dumbledore had said, eyes sliding away from Severus to stare at something he couldn’t see in the holoimage. “Much as you were at his age. Recent events have...shaken his faith, in the light. I want to help him, before he goes down a path not easily returned from.” 

Severus’ laugh was dry and shaky from disuse, but the bitterness that seeped from his tongue was no less potent for all his years alone, with only his thoughts as company. “You wish me to be an object lesson. Obey the code, trust the Light, meditate and repeat your lessons, purge yourself of your emotions or end up like *this*?” 

Dumbledore had merely blinked placidly. “Would such a lesson have helped you, my boy?” 

No, Severus didn’t say, nothing would have stopped me. No, I was too consumed to see anything but my own hatred. 

Instead he turned the discussion to possible lessons and just what he was permitted to do (Anything, within reason), where this padawan was permitted to go (Nowhere, unless properly disguised.) and when he was expected back (The Force will let us know when it is time. Severus hadn’t bothered to hide his eyeroll.) 

The days after that had been spent locating a chest of items he’d thought he would never use again and wrapping up his open contracts, declining more work, and making a short visit to the closest settlement to resupply on the things the inhabitants of the planet could supply. From there it had just been a waiting game, now about to end. 

He could feel Dumbledore’s little project through the Force, had felt them before he’d seen the ship come through the clouds or even heard it coming. They were...impressive. Most people moved through the force without causing any fluctuation and other force users caused ripples of varying size through it, like pebbles dropped into a lake. The larger the pebble the larger the ripple. 

But this person. This person was not a ripple, or even a series of ripples. They were a wave, churned up and rushing forward. They were a disturbance in the force all their own, big and bright and impossible to ignore. 

Severus understood why shielding was the first lesson Dumbledore wanted him to impart, though how he was supposed to train *that* to hide away and diminish itself he couldn’t begin to fathom. 

It would be a challenge. Severus hadn’t had a real challenge in some time. 

The back of the ship opened, ramp dropping to land in the hard packed dirt with a soft clang, and Severus tilted his head up to take in the robbed figure standing at the top from bottom to top. On the shorter side, body seemed slight even with the layers of earth-toned robes covering them, messy black hair, tell-tale braid hanging just in front of their ear, and

That face. He knew that face as well as he knew his own. 

“Potter,” He spat before his logical brain kicked in, reminding him that Potter was sixteen years dead, that he had seen the body himself, and never coming back, and telling him that those eyes that just fixed on him were Hers. The most brilliant green, wide in silent question; that was all her. 

What was Dumbledore thinking, sending Her son to him? 

The boy shuffled closer, mouth open to say who knew what and then he froze. Severus could see the moment he noticed, eyes stretching even wider, mouth dropping open stupidly, whole body flinching back. 

“Sith.” The boy breathed then, eyes narrowing, came at him. 

Foolish. Clearly there was more Potter in him than anything else. Still Severus noted, the speed that he drew and brought the golden beam of his saber to life was impressive and his use of the Force to propel him down the ramp showed a little skill. 

Not enough though. He was relying mostly on raw power, understandable when he had so much of it. The overhead strike he meant to bring down on Severus had considerable strength behind it; taken head on it would be enough to crush the guard of most duelists, maybe even break a few bones or take off a hand. Fifth form, the one James Potter, and Sirius Black, had favored. 

Severus had never been a fan.

Severus sidestepped to move fluidly and flicked his hand, slipping between the swirling force around the boy, and yanked the saber free from his hand. It smacked against his palm with a satisfying thwack. He spun it, considering the weight and balance, the wear of the hilt, the energy that thrummed within it, as the boy stumbled past him. He was fast to steady him, faster to turn and oh, that look on his face was exceedingly idiotic. Dumbfounded, eyes darting from saber to Severus and back again, as if the very idea of being disarmed was something he simply couldn’t comprehend. 

Severus sighed, already very bored of this, flicked his hand again. Not fully needed, he’d had nothing if not plenty of time to train himself to not telegraph his force use, but he doubted the boy could stop him even with a big flashing ‘This is what I’m doing next’ sign and it was easier to direct that way. The boy went flying back, pushed by Severus’ irritation boosted will, hit the dusty ground with a yelp, and skidded a few paces back. Another gesture and he was pinned, held in place with an invisible weight, as Severus walked towards him. The boy strained against his force hold, threw his power at it over and over desperately. 

In a lesser person he would have succeeded, a strong able to knock down almost anything in its path, but Severus left no cracks and laid his power down thick, reinforced, immovable. He was a mountain range compared to this boy, old and worn, but he’d weathered far worse. 

Unlike this child, no doubt. Son of the late, tragic Republic Heroes James and Lily Potter, spoiled prince turned senator of the Hollow System and one of the most promising Jedi in generations. Oh, people had been very impressed with James and his ability, there had been a lot of talk when he and Lily had left the Order to marry and lead the Hollow System in it’s time of need, but Severus had always known it was Lily who truly deserved the praise and attention. 

Praise she would never get, doomed as she was to be nothing more than James’ Potter’s tragic wife in the history books. 

She deserved better. 

Those eyes followed his every step, panicked, and the strength of the force around him grew. Now just a wave but a storm, a melstrom whipping up in the very fabric of the force that flowed around him, grasping and snarling, lashing out. 

It moved around Severus, broke against him like it was nothing. 

He sneered. “Is that how Master Dumbledore told you to greet your new trainer?” 

The boy blinked once, twice, a third time before shaking his head. “No! He wouldn’t send me to a sith! You much have killed Master Prince-” 

“Master Prince.” Severus stepped over the boy's body to peer straight down at him, lip curling. His mother would have liked it. “I think I like the way that sounds. We’ll stick with that. Now,” He lazily looped the saber, humming blade searing the air around it. “This is your father’s weapon, yes? I can feel him all over it. I’ll be keeping it for now, until I decide you can handle it without losing it in the first five seconds of a fight.” 

And he would leave it buried under his seed shed until then. Disgusting ostentatious thing, from it’s gleaming metal to the lion symbol stamped at the bottom of the hilt, with it’s overly large crystal. Compensation, perhaps, for a lacking personality. 

“Wait, you can’t!” There was anger behind the storm now, transforming it into a raging inferno. It prickled at Severus’ skin. Wanted to tear at him, to wrap around him and pull him apart. He powered down the weapon and clipped it to his belt, next to his own. 

“This is my home, and you’ve been sent here by your Master to train with me. That makes me your Master for now, no matter what my eye color is. You will obey me, without question, or I’ll send you back to the temple to explain how you couldn’t follow orders and attacked an unarmed opponent as soon as you met them, which is decidedly un-Jedi like behavior. I would prefer that, honestly, I have better things to do then teach spoiled, idiot princes, and I care little if you stay or go.”

Things like sleeping, or tending to the goats or doing the same things he’d done just about every day for the past sixteen years. 

“But let me be clear, Potter, I am not Sith. There are  **no** Sith anymore, the last ones died out with Darth Voldemort and it would serve you well to remember that, and to dissuade yourself of any notions of taking me in or defeating me, while you’re here. Still, your initial pitiful display notwithstanding, Dumbledore should have warned you about who was training you, to avoid this misunderstanding” Severus continued, not acknowledging the boy’s words. At the very least Dumbledore could have mentioned that attacking everyone with gold eyes was uncouth, though Severus could see where his, with their red ring and prominite flecks in the same color, inspired a certain reaction in a young Jedi whose parents had been killed by the last Sith Master. “But he has an unfortunate sense of drama and a love of being as unhelpful as possible. I’m sure he told you something to the effect of ‘This will be a great challenge but you must not let what appears in front of you distract you from going forward.’” 

The boy's eyes cut to the side; he seemed to physically deflate. “...Maybe you are Master Prince. That’s almost exactly what he said.” 

“Unfortunately, for all of us, I know him well.” He stepped away, smoothing down his tunic. “I’ll let you up, but I expect you to behave or else I’ll put you back down, and leave you down while I work on other things. Understood?” 

Something shivered through the force and the boy’s face pinkened all the way up to his ears. Severus arched an eyebrow, unsure how to read the cluttered, rapidly shifting and changing waves coming off the boy. 

“I...yes.” Potter did ‘sullen but accepting’ rather well. Severus decided to allow it, the sun would be setting soon the temperature on this rock would plummet sharply within the hour so there simply wasn’t time for a lecture about attitude. Besides, he was already burning with confusion and embarrassment and no small amount of that rage, adding to it would just make things take longer.

Severus had no desire to waste his own time, free and plentiful though it may have been. 

“Good. Reign in your emotion, you’re completely out of control and I can teach you nothing in such a state, then come inside. You have...forty five minutes or so, before the temperature drops to dangerous levels, and I won’t be permitting you inside until you’ve managed it.” 

The boy sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth but wisely kept whatever he wanted to say to himself. Severus let him up a few moments later, when he was half way to his home and holding him in place was becoming a bit of a chore. He didn’t worry about the boy attacking him from behind, he was certain he’d already proven that was a poor course to follow, but he kept his awareness focused on him just in case. 

It wouldn't do to be caught with his defenses down around a Potter. 

\----

The boy slept in his ship the next three nights, a roiling cloud of bitter confusion stretching out around him for further than Severus cared to track.

On the fourth night he appeared at the door, power just barely squashed down inside of him but threatening to bubble over at any moment. 

What in the Force had Dumbledore been teaching this boy up to this point? He was less in control than any youngling going through puberty, but with the strength of a half dozen or more crammed into one body. He was a menace, a bomb set to explode at the slightest provocation. Even Sith had to have some control, had to temper themselves enough to not lose their heads as soon as they were in combat, but this boy was just a large gaping wound, spilling everything out everywhere. 

A challenge, Severus told himself as he glanced at the weather report and it’s promise of hail storms during the night then rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let the boy in. He would be a challenge. 

Hadn’t Lily often said he worked best when he was out of his depth and had to actually put forth effort? 

“Good of you to finally join me.” Severus said, gesturing to his small kitchen table. “And in time for dinner. Lucky you.” 

Potter looked at him, dark shadows under familiar eyes, fatigue in every line of his body. “Yeah well. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go if I botch this too, so…” He trailed off, frowning at a point past Severus’ head and, it seemed, missing his skeptical look. Nowhere to go? The child of James Potter? As if there wasn’t a whole sector who had declared his birth a holiday and flooded the streets to celebrate the coming of their little prince, and no small number of homes bearing the Potter seal within, to say nothing of all the people who had adored Lily and would be happy to give her child a ‘place to go’. What a dramatic child. “When are we getting started?” 

Severus eyed him critically; the way he looked he was sure Potter would pass out as soon as he was pushed even a little. It would do nothing but agitate the boy, and give him a splitting headache, to start until he’d rested properly. 

“As soon as you’re done eating.” 


End file.
